Twenty Five Hours a Day
by Gaby Black
Summary: Join the First Order's members as they live through announces of upcoming births, near-death experiences, shameless taunting by friends and annoying pictures taking. Each chapter follows a different character. On Hiatus.
1. marlene

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing; JK Rowling does.

**Pairings:** James/Lily, Marlene McKinnon/Gideon Prewett, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon/Sirius Black, Fabian Prewett/Dorcas Meadowes, Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley.

**Summary:** This story takes place in twenty-five hours (hence the title), from December 17th, 1979 at midnight to December 18th, 1 A.M. It follows the members of the Order of the Phoenix and their friends, family and enemies as they live through the day the photograph Moody gave Harry in OoTP was taken.

**Genre:** this story will be a mix of lots of different genres, depending on the chapters: general, romance, adventure and angst.

**Author's notes:** This is a response to mackgirl's character challenge on HPFC. The challenge is to write a 25-chaptered fic, each chapter focusing on a different character and a different prompt - both will be mentioned at the beginning of each chapter. I'll try to update as soon as possible, and also to keep the story canon compliant. This first chapter can be read alongside my Gideon/Marlene oneshot _I'm a Loser._

Once again, I borrow the nickname Mack from lyin', and also the fact that Gideon works for the Hit Patrol. If you like this story, you'll love hers.

* * *

**1**

Wand - (_Marlene_)

* * *

In the deep of the night, Marlene McKinnon raised her wand.

"Who's there?" she demanded.

She was glad that her voice didn't quiver, no matter how afraid she really felt. There was a stifled snigger, and Marlene could have sworn she recognized it, but it was midnight and she'd had a long day, maybe it was just exhaustion.

"Show yourself or I'll curse you!"

It was just her luck: her first night shift at St Mungo's and there was an intruder. Healer Fenwick would be disappointed if she screwed up (she still couldn't get herself to call him Benjy outside of St Mungo's). She hoped against hope that it wasn't a Death Eater and that she would get the chance to report to Healer Fenwick.

There was another chuckle.

"You wouldn't," said the voice.

Something moved in the dark; Marlene lowered her wand, recognizing the voice – and the face, once it was out of the shadows.

"I don't even have words for this," Marlene muttered, her hands on her hips.

Gideon Prewett was smiling down at her, not looking the slightest bit sheepish.

"Happy birthday, Mack!" Gideon said cheerfully.

Marlene was still glaring at him.

"Do you even know how much you scared me?"

Marlene was so angry with him she'd forgotten to keep her fears to herself – after all, a member of the Order of the Phoenix wasn't supposed to be scared. And a Trainee Healer neither, probably.

"I'm sorry," Gideon said, but his broad smile and amused eyes belied his words. "I didn't mean to scare you."

His grin vanished and she wondered if perhaps he felt a bit guilty, or if this sudden change of expression was merely to trick her.

"Oh, really?" Marlene said sarcastically. "You… I can't believe you… don't you ever do this again, Prewett, or I'll – I'll –"

"Or you'll kiss me?" Gideon said innocently.

The obnoxious smile was back on his face. Marlene turned so that he couldn't see her blush, even though he probably wouldn't have seen it in the dim light that their wands provided.

"Or I'll hex you," Marlene corrected. "You're so stupid sometimes."

"Yeah, I've been told. Maybe that's why I made it on the Hit Patrol, don't you think?" Gideon said smugly.

Marlene blinked, gazing at him thoughtfully for a while.

"You're so much like Sirius sometimes," Marlene said.

She smiled as she anticipated his disgusted expression.

"McKinnon, you just broke my heart," Gideon said darkly.

"Sounds fair," Marlene shrugged, "seeing that you just scared the hell out of me. I imagined Healer Fen – _Benjy_'s face if he –"

"But it's your birthday," Gideon interrupted, the twinkle back in his blue eyes. "It's been your birthday for eleven minutes, actually. And I wanted to be the first to wish it to you."

Marlene's heart almost skipped a beat and she had to look away so that he couldn't read her eyes. She didn't like the way he made her feel, sometimes. She almost smiled, but then she grimly wondered if this wasn't part of a stupid contest between Gideon and Sirius as to who would get the girl.

"Thank you," Marlene finally said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "But I'd rather you owled first, next time."

Marlene looked at him again and saw that his eyebrows were raised.

"That would take out all the fun," Gideon pointed out.

Marlene had to agree, but she said nothing. Gideon, looking suddenly rather nervous, ran a hair through his dark red hair. She liked teasing him and saying they were almost auburn, and Gideon would protest that it sounded like he was a girl.

"That's for you," Gideon said quickly, handing her a dubiously-wrapped present.

Marlene bit her lip to prevent herself from chuckling; it was obvious Gideon had wrapped it up himself, the Muggle way. Even though pureblood Gideon sometimes made fun of Muggle-born Marlene, he had obviously done his best.

"I have no idea how Muggles survive without magic," Gideon just said, shaking his head.

"Thank you," Marlene said, smiling at him for the first time. "I really appreciate it, especially that you would go into such much trouble to wrap it."

"Don't make fun of me," Gideon said, but he was smirking.

Marlene started unwrapping her present.

"No!" Gideon said quickly. "Please wait till I'm gone to open it."

"Why? Are you afraid I might hit you?"

Gideon smiled apologetically.

"Humour me."

Marlene shrugged. "Alright."

There was a silence; Marlene looked away and fidgeted, her small fingers clutching at her Trainee Healer badge. In the distance, she heard someone calling her name.

"It's probably that man who drank too much Amortentia," Marlene rolled her eyes. "He's restless."

Gideon frowned. "He hasn't… tried to do anything to you, has he?"

Marlene looked at him coldly. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, Prewett, thank you. I don't need you to protect me."

"Fine," Gideon said, in a tone that indicated it wasn't fine at all. "I guess I should go then."

"Yes," Marlene said, almost forgetting that she'd been angry with him earlier as she looked down at the present in her hands. "I'm supposed to be working, you know."

"I know, I'll leave you to it. Happy birthday," Gideon repeated.

Marlene watched as he walked out of sight, not quite knowing what to make of him, as always. Then she started unwrapping the present and red wrapping paper (her favourite colour) fell on the floor carelessly.

It was a doll. An ordinary Muggle doll, with blonde hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks, just like her. It wore a white dress with a stupid red heart on it. As a gift for her twenty-first birthday, it looked positively ridiculous.

There wasn't a card with it or anything, but Marlene knew what Gideon would have written on it. He loved to tease her by insisting that she looked just like a doll, innocent and harmless and breakable, while her personality was quite the opposite. She did her best to break that image by uttering more swear words than necessary, by fighting Evil and doing foolish things with foolish persons (number one was sleeping with Sirius Black, number two was thinking it could lead to something).

Torn between annoyance and amusement, Marlene shook her head and went to put the doll in her locker. She could give it to Moira; her youngest sister would be pleased. They were seven siblings and toys were precious.

She took a piece of parchment and quickly thought of something to write to Gideon. She scribbled _I hate you_, underlining the 'hate' twice, but it did seem a bit excessive. She settled for a simple _You're not funny_, and almost ran to the hospital's owlery, knowing she had to be quickly by her patient's side, no matter how annoying he was. She chose a tiny brown owl, which seemed to her the only one who didn't look up at her with mocking eyes (she definitely had to get some sleep) and didn't even wait for it to fly away.

As she finally reached the room where was the stupid Jones fellow who had drunk too much Amortentia, Marlene freezed on the doorway. Healer Fenwick was already there.

"Miss McKinnon, where have you been?"

His voice was calm and gentle, as always, but Marlene could see that he was displeased. She smiled apologetically at her boss, taking in his tired features, which made him look even older than usual. Even though Benjy was only ten years older than her, he looked almost forty, which was why Marlene had difficulty calling him by his first name outside of St Mungo's. That, and the fact that he was her boss here.

"I heard voices," one patient interjected.

Marlene did her best not to glare at her.

"Who was it?" Benjy Fenwick asked, frowning.

"Oh, no one," Marlene said lightly. "A false alarm."

There was a short silence, during which Marlene pulled at her blonde hair, hoping her boss would somehow let it drop.

"A false alarm which goes by the name of Gideon Prewett?" Benjy asked.

Marlene gasped. "How do you know?"

Benjy smiled wearily. "I ran into him while I was getting here. He –"

"I'm sorry," Marlene said quickly, feeling rush of guilt as she looked into her boss's friendly brown eyes. "I know I shouldn't have left the room, it won't happen again."

"Well, let's just say you're forgiven this time, since it's your birthday," Benjy said slowly, letting her know that he wouldn't be so understanding next time. "But no more boyfriends coming to distract you, okay?"

Just as Marlene was about to protest that Gideon wasn't her boyfriend (not _exactly_), Jones spoke up.

"You're too lenient," Jones said, and Marlene almost regretted that she wasn't the one he was obsessed with.

Marlene sighed and repeated, "I'm sorry."

Benjy nodded and squeezed her shoulder in an almost fatherly gesture. "I know you are. Happy birthday, Marle - Miss McKinnon."

Marlene smiled slightly at his attempt to maintain a semblance of formality.

"I'll take care of Mr Jones and Miss Lance, you go check up on rooms 130 to 150," Benjy said.

Marlene did as she was told and tried to keep her mind on her work and off Gideon and Sirius (almost every time she pictured Gideon's face in her mind, Sirius was never far away) and Order business. It was nearly one o'clock; seven hours later she would be able to go to sleep. Marlene knew that before she could throw herself on her bed to get some sleep, she would be assaulted by her three sisters and her three brothers, by presents and shouts and kisses, and it helped pass the time considerably.

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**Please remember to review. Thank you.**


	2. molly

**Thanks so much for the reviews; please keep them coming! There are a few people who put this story on their alert but didn't review; even if it's only to tell me that you like it, please review! Reviews really encourage me to update more quickly.**

**I know this chapter is short, but as there are going to be 25 of them, some chapters will be a lot shorter than others. Next chapter will be Snape, and shorter than this one.**

**_Absolute_ first time writing the Weasleys (except for a Bill/Fleur drabble written a few months ago). Please tell me what you think!**

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**2**

Wales - (_Molly_)

* * *

To Katy, who made me like the Weasleys.

* * *

Molly Weasley couldn't sleep.

She didn't know for how long she had been tossing and turning in her bed with her eyes wide open, but it certainly felt like a long time. She turned to the Muggle alarm clock Arthur treasured and saw that it was half past one in the morning. She sighed. The moment when she had kissed Arthur goodnight felt like centuries ago.

She turned her head and saw the reassuring, sleeping form of her husband. She closed her eyes, trying to find peace in the sound of his regular breathing.

But it wouldn't do. She couldn't stop thinking of them, as usual.

_"Molly, look after your brothers, please! Make sure they don't eat anything that's not edible!" _

Her little brothers were out there fighting, and she was supposed to sleep soundly? They might be twenty-three years old, but they were still children to her.

_"When I'm older, I want to be a hero."_

_"Don't say that, Gid! Heroes always die first."_

Molly sighed and got up. Walking silently, she made her way towards the Burrow's living room, resisting the urge to check if all the boys were sleeping – Fred and George, particularly, were woken up by the slightest noise, and she did _not_ want that to happen.

She made herself some tea, took the most recent photo album of the family from the bookshelves and then sat down on the tattered red couch.

_"Molly, I can't sleep, there's a huge spider under my bed, and Gid says they get bigger during the night -"_

_"Calm down, Fab, I'm coming. I'll get the spider for you, okay, love? And I thought you knew you shouldn't believe everything your brother says."_

She flipped through the pages to keep her mind distracted, smiling every now and then at Bill's proud grin as he held baby Fred (or was it George?) in his arms, at Percy's widened eyes as he listened to Arthur reading him a story, or at Charlie's sleeping face, peaceful as he clutched at his favourite dragon toy.

Her beautiful sons. They were the reason why Arthur and she had not joined the Order of the Phoenix. And even though Arthur seemed to regret it every now and then, and even if Molly felt a twinge of guilt whenever Fabian and Gideon came to visit them and talked about the Order, Molly knew she couldn't do it. Her children were too young and she couldn't imagine taking risks on their behalf.

_"Where is he?"_

_"Is that him?"_

_"Is it... _this?_ This howling, tiny red thing?"_

_"Gideon Prewett! It's your nephew you're talking about!"_

_"Easy, Molly. You know, I wasn't too enthusiastic about babies either when I was their age -"_

_"Being fourteen is not an excuse, Arthur!"_

_"I'm sorry, Molly, he's... beautiful."_

_"Of course he is, Gideon. He's perfect William Arthur Weasley."_

_"... Why don't we just call him Bill?"_

But her smile vanished when she reached the pictures of their summer trip to Barmouth, in Wales. It had been the only destination they'd been able to afford, this year, and the first holiday Arthur had taken since Charlie's birth. One picture showed Bill's bleeding leg. He had hurt himself while playing with some Muggle kids in the street. Molly had never forgiven herself for not watching over him properly as she had been talking animatedly with some mothers from the neighbourhood, even though it hadn't been anything grave. One of the Muggle kids' father was a doctor and, before Molly could think of what to do, he had mended Bill's leg with a tourniquet, one of those strange Muggle devices which, of course, had fascinated Arthur. Molly had to admit it had worked quite well, even though _she_ had not been fascinated by it at all. Her Bill had been so brave, she recalled proudly.

The sight of the blood, though it wasn't impressive in itself as Bill's injury had been superficial, brought her thoughts back to Fabian and Gideon. She wondered what they were doing. She hoped they were sleeping, even though she knew her brothers somehow managed to live on five hours of sleep. Perhaps they were with their girlfriends, Marlene and Dorcas, although they both insisted that neither of them were _really_ their girlfriends - it bewildered Molly, when she asked them whether or not Marlene and Dorcas were their girlfriends. Fabian would remain mysteriously silent. Gideon would smile mieschievously and answer, "Well, _technically_, I guess they are,", and Molly would spend hours pondering what _technically_ meant, and understanding it, and wishing she didn't know anything about her little brothers being _technically_ involved with women. But why couldn't they just find two nice little wives and live happily ever after like she and Arthur did? No, instead they were single and working for a secret organization and risking their lives every day... As much as she loved them, she had never really understood them.

She'd owl them later, just to check on them, even though they'd probably laugh at her and tell her to stop stalking them.

She shook her head. What with all her reminiscing and worrying, which seemed to be her habits as of late, almost half an hour had passed by. Molly climbed up the stairs in an expert silence and got into the bedroom and snuggled against Arthur, thinking about all her boys, and how much she feared for them.

_"Molly, Gid and I have decided that you're our favourite sister."_

_"I'm your _only _sister."_

Earnest, pale blue eyes were dancing before her in the dark as she remembered what little Fabian had said then, insiting with all the sincerity of a six-year-old.

_"You're our favourite sister."_


	3. severus

**3**

Object - (_Severus_)

* * *

Severus Snape raised his wand towards the starless sky.

"_Mosmordre_."

His voice was surprisingly calm for someone who was in the middle of a battle field. But he knew Dolohov could handle both Black and Meadowes for a few seconds, and the Dark Lord had to know at once that they had fulfilled their mission.

Green light was falling over them now, and a snake was coming out of the large skull's mouth. Severus felt stronger, as if someone had blown life into him. He liked being part of something bigger than him and feeling useful.

Next to him, Dolohov was casting spell after spell on Dorcas Meadowes. Severus concentrated on the boy in front of him; yes, boy. Sirius Black might have been as old as Severus was, but he certainly wasn't nineteen as far as maturity was concerned. Severus liked to think of him as a spoilt child. A foolish, conceited spoilt child who had, for reasons Severus couldn't comprehend, the privilege of being one of Lily's closest friends.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Severus dodged Black's spell, smirking. He knew the Order members had received the instruction to avoid Unforgivable Curses when necessary; it was nice to see Black follow the rules, for once.

It was amazing how cool he managed to remain when fighting – even if, sometimes, Black's or Potter's taunting words sent a fire burning inside him, and all thoughts were erased from his mind, except for one: seeing pain in Black's and Potter's arrogant eyes.

With a graceful wave of his wand, Severus cast a Backfiring Jinx, but Black had already shouted, "_Protego_!", and the spell he'd sent missed Severus by mere inches. Severus looked around again, to make sure Lily wasn't there. Every time he encountered Lily in the middle of a fight, he got as paralyzed as if he had been Petrified. Lily - the object of his affection, and so much more. It was rather ironic, but she was one of the reasons he was fighting now.

But there was just Dolohov, Meadowes, Black and himself, and a dead body on the ground. It was the body of Harold Smith, a man in his late thirties who had been a journalist for the Daily Prophet, and had been publishing too much information on the Death Eaters' activities and the Dark Lord's whereabouts. Obviously, someone in their circle had been giving him this information. And that person must have tipped the Order, which explained Black and Meadowes's presence. There were only two of them, which meant that they didn't trust their informer completely. Whoever he or she was, this mysterious informer would be severely punished and would most likely join his dear journalist friend.

Severus couldn't remember which spell had killed the foolish man, Dolohov's, or his? Their flashes of green light had mingled, the Killing Curses having been sent simultaneously. Severus thought that it didn't really matter. Another Mudblood off the surface of the Earth, a Mudblood which had, moreover, known too much. Severus had never met Harold Smith when he was alive - except for the brief minutes they had interrogated him, or tortured, but Severus liked euphemisms - and he wasn't going to mourn him.

"Watch out, Snape!" Black snarled. "Oh yes, I know it's you, though you're too much of a coward to show your face. Your big nose shows even through the mask!"

Severus's hand clutched harder at his wand. He was faintly aware of "_Crucio_!" being shouted repeatedly, echoing through the cold night. Dolohov's voice was determined and merciless. Severus wished he weren't hurt by Black's words, but he was, and hated Black even more for it.

"_Confringo_!" Severus shouted, imagining Black's body exploding in a million pieces.

How he wished Potter was there, too, so that he could vanish from the surface of Earth. He tried not to think that Potter was probably in bed at the moment, his arm placed protectively around Lily's body, sighing in her neck, their legs entwined. Severus would give anything - _anything_ - to be the one holding Lily. But, at least, she was safe. The Dark Lord had said he didn't need to harm her.

He had missed his target; his hand had quivered in anger. Black turned his head to glance at Meadowes's body on the ground. She wasn't screaming in pain anymore, but she was still moving. She wasn't dead _yet. _Severus managed to calm down as he remembered what the Dark Lord had said a few months before. _"Kill their leaders, the ones who are the most dangerous - Moody, Fenwick, Meadowes, Podmore and, most importantly, Bones. The others... they are only foolish children. They do not matter."_ The green skull cast an eerie light on Black's handsome face, making him look like a ghost, and Severus was satisfied by the worried look on his face. Just as he aimed his wand at Black again, several people Apparated at the same time – Aurors.

"Retreat!" Severus shouted. "Retreat!"

He hated the unusual edge of panic in his voice. The Aurors were already firing spells his way.

He Disapparated without waiting for Dolohov.

* * *

**So, I suck at action scenes, sorry. But this is a story about the First Order, after all, so it had to include at least one. And I'm trying to give this story a semblance of a plot, too, though plot isn't my forte.**

**I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed tomorrow - reviews would make me feel better. Next chapter will be Dorcas Meadowes. **


	4. dorcas

**4**

Death (_Dorcas_)

* * *

Dorcas Meadowes was vaguely aware of being lifted off the ground, and onto someone's shoulder. Her brain, which seemed, unbelievably, to be working, registered the fact that this someone was Sirius Black.

She heard voices, but she felt too much pain to be able to hear what was being said exactly. She felt like she had been knocked off repeatedly by a particularly violent Bludger.

Nope, it was _only_ Antonin Dolohov.

And, on further reflection, it was probably a thousand times worse than being knocked off by a Bludger, even sent by Fabian Prewett, who was one of the best Beaters Hogwarts had ever seen, or so she'd heard.

It seemed most incongruous to think of Fabian now, but she imagined his face and it made her feel a bit better. She closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering each of Fabian's features to stop thinking about the pain. The pale blue eyes, like sunny skies, the firm jaw, the tiny freckles, which were less visible than Gideon's, the dark red hair, so soft, the charming smile…

"Dorcas? Dorcas, can you hear me?"

Dorcas groaned.

"I'll take this as a yes."

Sirius's voice came from barely inches from her ears, and though his voice was low, it was still too loud for her.

"I'm taking you to St Mungo's, Dorcas, you'll be alright."

She had never heard Sirius's voice quiver so much. Her unruly, curly brown hair was falling on her eyes, obscuring her vision; so were the tears that were stinging her eyes.

"Don't tell… Fabian," Dorcas managed to whisper.

She felt Sirius's body stiffen.

"For Merlin's sake! You just escaped from a near-death experience and you're talking to me about Prewett?"

Sirius's furious words echoed through her mind. Near-death experience… Dorcas had never felt so cold. There had been a moment, after Dolohov - what had it been? the fourth Cruciatus Curse? - when she'd wished she'd just die. It wouldn't have been a noble way to die, perhaps, lying on the ground helplessly, but the pain had been excruciating.

"I'm sorry, Dorcas," Sirius quickly added. "I really shouldn't have said that. It's not the moment. Ah, you know I always say the most stupid things at the wrong moments... I won't tell Prewett. Wasn't going to, actually."

There would be plenty of time, later, for Dorcas to slap herself because Sirius wasn't supposed to know about Fabian and her. At least, she hoped there would be a time, soon, when the pain would be eased or, at least, become more bearable, and she'd only have to care about keeping her relationship with Fabian secret. She concentrated on Fabian's face again.

"I'm going to use Side-Along Apparition, Dorie," Sirius said and, somewhere in the fog of her suffering, Dorcas registered the fact that he'd called her by her nickname for the first time since they knew each other. "Hold on to me."

She didn't have the strength to hold Sirius's robes tighter, but it was apparently enough, as a few seconds later they were in front of St Mungo's; she felt light-headed from the Apparition, though she'd kept her eyes closed. Sirius walked in, Dorcas still in his arms, with her head over his shoulder.

"Let's go find Benjy and Marlene."

Sirius's voice was soothing like it had never been. There wasn't the cutting edge he often used, or the joking tone. He was calling her Dorie, and talking to her as if she was a frightened six-year-old. If Dorcas had thought it was just a nightmare, he was proving her wrong.

Dorcas took deep breaths as Sirius walked up to the third floor; Benjy and Marlene both worked for the Potion and Plant Poisoning department. But obviously, Sirius thought it was better to take her to see members of the Order, even though she hadn't been poisoned. She was grateful for his good intuition. They would already have to get Moody to make up a story for his fellow Aurors, and there was no need to get anyone else involved in this.

Dorcas almost rolled her eyes at her astounding self-control. Here she was, having just escaped from a near-death experience, and she was worrying about the Order, wanting, as always, to control everything.

"Hello? Benjy? Marlene?" Sirius called, his voice loud and urging.

Benjy walked out of a room and towards them, wearing his lime-green robes. His eyes widened when he saw them and he put on his spectacles.

"What happened?" Benjy asked.

"Cruciatus Curses. Dolohov. Repeatedly," Dorcas replied, her weak voice barely more than a whisper.

"Listen to me, Dorcas," Benjy said.

Benjy's voice was smooth, but determined; he sounded like the older brother Dorcas had never had.

"I want you to stop trying to talk. We'll handle everything. First I'll give you painkillers and then when those have taken effect, I'll give you a Sleeping Potion. Now Sirius, follow me."

Dorcas closed her eyes as Benjy and Sirius walked to an empty room. The sight of the floor, moving with each of Sirius's steps, made her feel dizzy. Then strong arms delicately dropped her on a bed, and Dorcas saw three faces staring down at her. She was in so much pain she hadn't even realized Marlene was there before.

"You'll be fine, Dorie," Marlene said softly, smiling her practiced Healer smile. "It's over now."

"Drink this," Benjy said, and Dorcas swallowed the contents of the glass he gave her.

She winced at the taste.

"I know it doesn't taste good, but it'll ease the pain," Benjy said.

"Why don't you give her a Sleeping Potion already?" Sirius asked.

"Because those two don't mix," Marlene answered. "Now, can I have a word with you?"

Sirius and Marlene walked away, but they were still within ear-shot. Dorcas concentrated on trying to follow their conversation because it prevented her from thinking about her sore limbs. It didn't work perfectly, but it was still something.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Marlene asked.

Dorcas couldn't see them; she could only stare at the ceiling, and at Benjy's friendly face as he took care of her.

"I'm fine," Sirius replied, gruffly.

His voice sounded in-character now that he had recovered from the shock.

"Snape's spells didn't hit me. Didn't you know he sucked at fighting? I always recognize him by his nose, and then by his lack of skill."

"This is not a time to joke, Sirius," Marlene said severely. "And Dolohov fought with Dorcas?"

"Hit her four or five times with the Cruciatus Curse. Merlin, I'm going to kill him..."

There was a tense silence. Dorcas felt the painkillers easing the pain, slowly but steadily, feeling a bit better with every second.

"I knew the dead man," Dorcas said. "Harold Smith. I used to work with him. Benjy, you must inform somebody -"

"We will, Dorcas, don't you worry about it," Benjy said. "Now what did I tell you? Just try to relax."

"Oh Dorcas," Marlene said, having walked back towards the bed, a small smile on her pretty face. "Did you have to do this on my birthday? It's not the best present I could wish for."

"It's your birthday?" Sirius asked, astonished.

"Not that you'd know," Marlene said dejectedly. "Nevermind. I didn't expect you to remember."

"Well, happy birthday," Sirius said.

"Oh, keep your bloody sarcasm to yourself, it's -"

"Kids," Benjy cut in firmly. "Dorcas needs some rest. Nobody argues in here. If you want to resume your conversation, I'd suggest you leave the room."

Both Marlene and Sirius looked away, ashamed of themselves.

"I'll go and owl Edgar," Benjy said. "I'll tell him to come as soon as he can; I know it's four in the morning, but... Sirius, I need you to stay here so that you can report to him."

"Of course. I'm sure Marlene will be more than happy to have me here."

Benjy turned to Marlene, his expression wary as he anticipated her reaction to Sirius's renewed sarcasm.

"You watch over her and give her the Sleeping Potion."

"Right, Healer Fenwick. I mean, Benjy. Oh, what the hell."

Marlene put her hand on her mouth, her cheeks turning a bright pink.

"Sorry," Marlene said. "I'll take care of Dorcas."

Benjy nodded and left without another word. Marlene bit her lip and sighed, looking annoyed with herself.

"She said not to tell Prewett," Sirius muttered unexpectedly. "D'you know why?"

"Gideon? Why would she mention Gideon?" Marlene asked, perplexed, assuming, for some reason, that Dorcas had meant this Prewett.

"Not _your _Prewett," Sirius snapped. "The other one."

There was a short, angry silence, during which Marlene summoned a Sleeping Potion.

"He's not my Prewett," Marlene said, very quietly, looking at Dorcas and purposedly avoiding Sirius's eyes. "Do you want me to tell anyone you're here?"

"My parents... though please tell them I pulled through it, or they'll worry too much. I'll... I'll pull through this, right?"

"Of course you will," Marlene said gently. "And I'll owl your parents. You'll be sleeping for a few hours, though. You really need to rest. How are you feeling now?"

"A bit better... I feel so lightheaded, though."

"Here," Marlene said. "Drink this."

Marlene's blue eyes were cloudless now, no longer worried. Barely a few seconds after she drank the Sleeping Potion, Dorcas drifted into unconsciousness.


	5. edgar

**5**

Mysterious (_Edgar_)

* * *

It was twenty past four when Edgar Bones entered St Mungo's. He had managed to leave his home without waking his wife or his daughter, for which he was most grateful. The less they knew, the better. He'd be back before they got up, anyway. Benjy had told him to go to the third floor; as he made his way up he met a man in the otherwise empty corridors.

"Where are you going? You don't look much ill, now do you?"

Edgar raised his eyebrows. He was not used to being talked to so cheekily and without respect.

"Why would that be any of your business?" Edgar asked silkily.

Edgar took a better look at the man; he was tall, in his forties, wearing a badge that read 'Healer Laurie', but no lime-green Healer robes.

"Because I happen to be the Healer in charge, and you look –"

The man paused to look at Edgar from head to toes.

"You look exactly like the 'tall, mysterious dark-haired man' of the stupid romance novels. Never met one of those. Was wondering if you were as mysterious as you looked. Simple matter of curiosity. You have no idea how boring it can get at night."

There was a short silence; Edgar looked into the Healer's hard blue eyes.

"I'm very uninteresting, really," Edgar said.

"Oh, what a disappointment."

Edgar rolled his eyes. He had no time for this and therefore decided to take the easiest way out: lying.

"I'm going to see my cousin, actually."

"Really? Where is she?"

"Third floor. Now I've got to go, if you don't mind."

Edgar smiled and quickly walked away, hoping the other man would just let it drop.

"Everybody lies," the man called out.

Edgar stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around.

"You know what, you're perfectly right," Edgar said.

There was a silence; Edgar thought he had surprised the Healer.

"I don't like it when people say I'm right, it makes me feel like I'm wrong… Just go before I take interest in you again."

Edgar chuckled and, shaking his head, made his way towards the third floor. He had to admit that he probably fit the part of the mysterious dark-haired man perfectly. He'd been told he'd never looked better since he'd turned forty the year before. His hair was slightly silver at the temples and his face bore a few laughing lines, and yet it was true. With his jet black hair and green eyes, he'd always been the odd one out in his family: most of his relatives were typically English-looking. Most of them had red or blonde hair, like his sister Amelia. Also, most of them had not been in Slytherin, whereas he had.

"Hello, Edgar! Glad you could make it so fast."

Benjy had been waiting for him in the corridor. Edgar walked towards him and shook his hand.

"How's Dorcas?"

Benjy looked tired, but not too worried.

"Sleeping. She'll get better."

"Ah," Edgar said, having foreseen that possibility. "I can't talk to her, then?"

"No," Benjy said. "But you can talk to Sirius."

Edgar followed Benjy to room 365, where Dorcas was lying on a bed, sleeping, Marlene McKinnon and Sirius Black sitting on either sides of the bed, looking away.

"Black, come with me," Edgar said.

Black looked at him, arrogance and dislike obvious on his face.

"Good morning to you, too," Black said.

Marlene scowled at Black but Edgar ignored him and turned to Benjy.

"Is there an empty room we can use?" Edgar asked.

Edgar would have made a joke about needing an empty room so that he could torture Black without witnesses, but it didn't seem like the right time.

"Yes, the room next door is empty," Benjy answered.

Edgar nodded and made his way out, expecting Black to follow at once. Behind his back, he heard Black muttering swear words under his breath. Chuckling to himself, Edgar stepped in the empty room. Two seconds later, Black came in.

"Sit down and tell me everything," Edgar said.

He was still standing, and so was Black.

"Why do you always have to order everyone around like you're the big boss?" Black snarled. "As far as I know, it's Dumbledore."

Edgar grinned, but the smile never reached his eyes.

"Dumbledore trusts me," Edgar just said.

Black sighed and bit his lip in annoyance, knowing, as everybody did, that it was true. Albus Dumbledore had seen the good in Edgar when no one else had (especially not his law-abiding sister) and had been a fatherly figure for him who had lost his father barely a few months after he had entered Hogwarts. Dumbledore had trusted him and had enabled Edgar to believe in himself and in love more than in ambitions and try and be a better man. And there he was, an ex-Slytherin, one of the most powerful men of the Order. But lots of people still thought he could join the other side at any moment and strongly ddisapproved of him; many men didn't like him because he could charm women, too. It was true that Edgar still had a few vices and addictions: he smoked a lot, and enjoyed gambling too much for it to be a healthy hobby, and he wouldn't think twice about killing a Death Eater if necessary, but he would do anything for Dumbledore. Without him, he'd probably be an unloved, bitter man. Thanks to him and his advices, Edgar had a wonderful wife, two daughters and a high position at the Ministry. Even though life wasn't always rainbows and butterflies, especially these days, and even though he'd never be a softie like Benjy Fenwick or a model of morals like his sister, Edgar would be eternally grateful to Dumbledore.

"Can't imagine why he does," Black muttered, and finally sat down.

Edgar stared at Black, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and his clenched jaw.

"You don't like to do as you're told, do you?"

Black remained silent. His grey eyes were cold as he looked up at him.

"Look, just tell me what happened and I'll be gone in a few minutes. Or do you want me to give you a Gregory's Unctuous Unction to make things easier?"

It was a potion which persuaded the drinker that the giver was his very best friend. Black was the person in the Order he had the most difficulties dealing with, and it didn't sound like a bad idea (slightly illegal, perhaps, but Edgar had never bothered too much about that).

"Nah, I'll behave," Black said. "Because I don't like you doesn't mean we can't work together, right?"

Edgar grinned again. "Glad to know you're learning your lessons, kid."

"Don't push it."

Edgar laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Just so you know, I feel exactly the same as you do."

Black rolled his eyes, feigning to be aggrieved. "I thought I was like a son to you. What a disappointment."

Edgar crossed his arms over his chest to look more intimidating. Black held up his arms in surrender.

"Fine. I'll tell you what happened. Dorcas came to my place at about one o'clock – I couldn't sleep anyway – to tell me that some fellow who worked with her in the Prophet, Harold Smith, had told her that a Death Eater – or someone in Voldemort's circle, at least – had been giving him information for several weeks, and now freaked out and wanted to be protected by us."

"Who's that person?"

"Smith wouldn't tell her," Black replied, shaking his head. "Told her to meet him at his place and then he'd take her to see his informer. Dorcas told me to come with her; she didn't believe him entirely. Said he was ready to go to great lengths to have exclusive information and that sometimes it led him to tell lies to make himself seem interesting. Half of the stuff he published we couldn't check to know if it was true –"

"I know that," Edgar cut in, making an impatient gesture with his hand. "And then?"

"I went to see Smith with Dorcas. We took a Portkey to somewhere in Devon, I think. At least, I thought it looked like Devon. Smith wouldn't tell us where it was exactly. He was really excited. But his mysterious informer wasn't there."

"Was it a trap, do you think?"

Black looked slightly surprised that he was asking him about his opinion.

"Don't think so. Smith looked genuinely surprised. And then Snape and Dolohov suddenly Apparated – since they were only two, I guess they thought there'd only be Smith. They must have had someone spying on his flat."

"You didn't think of checking on that when you were at his place?"

"No," Black admitted. "As I already told you, Dorcas thought he was probably telling us shit anyway. They… they disarmed us straight away and kept threatening us as they tortured Smith to get the informer's name. Quite an unpleasant sight."

Despite his forced light tone, Edgar could see Black had been shaken. He was just a kid, after all - nineteen, only seven years older than Edgar's eldest daughter. At his age, Edgar had been mostly concerned with flirting with older woman and getting drunk with his friends at the local pub.

"They didn't have much time, so they ended up killing him really soon, too soon to get a name. Actually, Smith did say a name..."

Black's voice broke and he averted his eyes. Edgar tilted his head to the side, studying his face.

"What name?"

"Regulus Black."

Black finally looked at him, his expression unreadable.

"My brother who, as you know, is one of _them_."

The silence streched while Edgar processed the information.

"But Snape said it was impossible because apparently Regulus isn't exactly in Voldemort's good books, or at least hasn't proven himself yet. Probably hasn't killed a sufficient number of Muggles. Ha, even _they_ think he's useless!"

Edgar nodded, choosing to ignore Black's family issues for several reasons. One, he was tired and longed to go back to sleep; two, he was no good at comforting people anyway; he felt no particular sympathy for Black.

"So it's not him."

"No," Black said. "And then Dorcas somehow managed to get our wands back when they lost attention and then we fought against Dolohov while Snape conjured the Dark Mark."

Black's voice was positively filled with hatred now, and his eyes were flashing much more than when he had been annoyed with Edgar. He knew Black had been at Hogwarts with Snape; Edgar was fortunate enough not to know any Death Eaters personally.

"Dolohov performed the Cruciatus Curse on Dorcas repeatedly. Snape didn't manage to hit me but, unfortunately, I didn't get him either. Then the Aurors came. Mad-Eye was with them and covered up for us."

Obviously, Black had anticipated Edgar's question about what the Aurors knew. Edgar nodded.

"You couldn't do much more, Black. You were only two."

"Yeah, if we'd trust Smith…"

Black didn't finish his sentence. Edgar nodded and made his way out. When he reached the doorstep, he turned around haltingly. Black was staring off into space, most likely reminiscing the night's events.

"Go home and get some sleep," Edgar said.

Black looked up at him, surprised by his sudden change of tone.

"Order meeting tonight, you want to be fit for that," Edgar added.

Black nodded and Edgar walked back to Dorcas's room.

"I'm leaving, Benjy," Edgar said.

Benjy nodded. "Alright. How's the family, by the way?"

"Fine, thanks," Edgar smiled.

"I haven't seen the girls in ages," Benjy remarked, walking alongside Edgar in the corridor. "They must have grown up a great deal."

"They did. Olga's in her second year now, time passes by so fast."

Suddenly, Edgar remembered that one of Harold Smith's children - a girl, Edgar remembered - was in Olga's year; she was one of her friends. He tried not to think of his little Olga's face, which so resembled her mother's, if Dumbledore told her that her father was gone. He must be really foolish to fight while he had a family, but he couldn't imagine being inactive.

"Did you recover from the shock of her being sorted in Gryffindor?" Benjy asked, chuckling.

Edgar smirked. "Nobody's perfect. And little Alba will go to Hogwarts next year, maybe she'll be in another House. I'd like her to be in Ravenclaw, I think she'd fit there."

He'd named his daughter after Dumbledore. Natacha and he had expected a boy but had called the girl Alba anyway. His youngest had never forgiven him for it; she thought it was a stupid name.

"And your wife? Is she still working for that model agency?"

"Yes," Edgar replied, grinning proudly.

Natacha, who used to be a model and now worked for an agency in London, was a beautiful Russian woman, tall and blonde, a picture of perfection. He had met her during a business trip in Moscow and they had got married fourteen years ago. He would be eternally grateful there was no Cold War between wizards.

"What about you? Did you find someone?" Edgar asked lightly, clapping Benjy on the back.

Edgar had never known Benjy as anything other than a bachelor; they had first met when the Order was being constituted, two years previously.

Benjy looked away, slightly embarrassed. "You know, now's not the time for that."

"Natacha's got a friend who got divorced two years ago, maybe I could –"

"No, thanks," Benjy said. "I think I'll wait for this war to end."

Edgar looked down at him gravely. He was taller than Benjy by six good inches. It amazed Edgar, how two people who were so different could be friends. Benjy was the optimistic one, gentle, friendly, always calm and a good listener; a woman's best friend. Edgar, on the other hand… well, Edgar was exactly the kind of man that women wanted, against their better judgment. And yet he liked Benjy; who _couldn't_ like him?

"You know, that might take a while."

They both knew that 'a while' was an understatement.

Benjy smiled sadly as he stopped walking. "I know... Did Sirius behave, by the way?"

Edgar laughed; the sound was rough and loud.

"He doesn't like me," Edgar said. "Probably thinks I'm a spy for Voldemort or something, like lots of people do."

Edgar walked away, yawning and hoping he'd find sleep when he'd get home, which was unlikely. He'd probably think about his Olga over there at Hogwarts, and about her friend who was going to receive terrible news.

"Edgar!" Benjy called.

Edgar turned; he had reached the end of the corridor.

"I believe you're a good person," Benjy said.

Edgar flashed him a smile, grateful to see that there were people who, unlike the unpleasant Healer he'd met earlier, still believed in humanity.

* * *

**Couldn't resist putting House, MD in this! And anyone who recognizes an Oscar Wilde quote gets a virtual cookie! Please review if you're reading this, thank you. **


	6. regulus

**6**

Escape (_Regulus_)

* * *

Regulus Black was standing in the middle of a wide, open space. He looked up at the starless sky with no idea about where he was or what he was doing there. The night was extremely cold, but Regulus didn't feel it; he just _knew_ it, somehow. There were a few people over by some trees and Regulus floated towards them thoughtlessly. Two cloaked, black figures had their wands pointed at three people, one of which was lying on the ground. The dark silhouettes wore masks. The light coming from their wands was dim and, at first, Regulus recognized no one.

"Who is it?"

He knew the collected, sneering voice. He watched as Severus Snape performed a Cruciatus Curse on the man lying on the ground, who howled in pain. The sound should have made him cringe or look away, and yet he stood there and didn't react.

"_Who _is it?"

It was another voice, older, with a faint, hard Russian accent. Antonin Dolohov sent another spell at the man. Snape had his wand aimed at the two standing people; one was a woman, the other a man. Regulus floated even closer to them. As he did, he thought he recognized one of them.

"Come on, give us a name! What do you have to lose?"

Regulus could now hear the man's gasps of pain. He also recognized his brother, standing proud and annoyingly brave.

"It's... it's Regulus Black," the man answered.

Regulus, who had been watching his brother's face, saw it fall.

"You're lying," Snape snarled.

"Regulus doesn't know enough to be your informer," Dolohov added snidely.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell us the truth?" Snape asked silkily.

There was a silence.

"I _am_ telling you the truth."

But the man's voice was weak and trembling. The black figures looked at each other and seemed to come to a silent agreement.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

There were flashes of green light, a scream from the woman, and the body no longer moved.

"Now it's time to take care of our guests," Snape said, turning to Sirius and the woman.

* * *

Regulus woke up with a start, breathing rapidly. It took him several seconds to realize that he wasn't in the clearing, he was in his dorm at Hogwarts, and everything seemed perfectly normal. Lights turned on and the curtains of his four-poster bed were pulled open roughly.

"Are you crazy, shouting in the middle of the night?"

Regulus was blinded by light and blinked a few times to be able to recognize the angry face of Thorfinn Rowle, fellow Death Eater and Slytherin seventh year. Suddenly, Regulus thought he heard a voice hissing in his ear, but it seemed that this voice was _inside_ him.

_"See what happens to those who turn against me... I am warning you, Regulus... for the future."_

Regulus, once again, recognized the cold voice. It sent shivers down his spine. Thorfinn snickered, having noticed that he was shaking.

"What? Did you have a nightmare or something? Does little Regulus want his mummy?"

"No... nothing like that."

It wasn't a good lie, and Thorfinn shook his blonde head.

"Just shut up, for Slytherin's sake. I want to sleep."

Regulus tried to look reassured and sleepy. But his efforts were wasted; he probably looked like he had seen Death, anyway.

"What time is it?"

Thorfinn scowled at him. His large face looked less scary because he had been sleeping, but it wasn't exactly a picture of reassurance.

"About half past five."

Without another word, Thorfinn disappeared, closing the curtains behind him. A moment later, everything was dark again. Regulus wouldn't have admitted it, but he was scared to death. What was that nightmare? It hadn't felt like an ordinary nightmare, more like a memory... Was it, somehow, real? Where was Sirius? Was he hurt? Had he really heard the Dark Lord's voice inside his head? Regulus's head was spinning from too many unanswered questions.

"Thorfinn?"

He heard a groan from the nearest bed. He knew better than to annoy Thorfinn, but it was important. This most likely had not been a nightmare.

"Fuck off, Black, or your pretty head will be quite damaged when you wake up this morning. I told you, I want to get some sleep. And you know I always get what I want."

Oh, Regulus knew alright. Thorfinn, who was much taller and broader, had hit him once. Regulus never wanted it to happen again.

"Did you... did you ever hear the Dark Lord's voice inside your head?"

As soon as he voiced his question, Regulus regretted it, and even more when Thorfinn sniggered.

"You're going nuts, aren't you, Pretty Face? Well, had to happen someday. Kind of runs in your family."

The look on Sirius's face would not leave his mind. Regulus remained silent. He hated that Pretty Face nickname, and it was Thorfinn who had started calling him that, in fourth year, because of Regulus's pale, rather feminine good looks. Now they were in seventh year, but nothing had changed, even though he was the Quidditch team's Seeker. Thorfinn was one of the Beaters, and the strongest. Regulus had neither the physical strength nor the sharpness of mind to beat him, whether with punches or words.

"Black, we're not important enough for the Dark Lord to speak to us yet. Especially not you, little thing, even though your brother's a traitor. Now leave me alone or I'll beat the hell out of you."

"Good night, Thorfinn."

Sarcasm often was the easiest way out with Thorfinn, who didn't seem to get this kind of humour. There was a grunt and, a few minutes later, snores. Regulus sighed as he tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep.

The Dark Lord had somehow spoke to him, and he had no idea why. He unconciously scratched the Mark on his arm until it hurt, and finally drowned into a troubled sleep.

* * *

**I'm trying to keep things canon. Thorfinn, for instance, is canon. Please review?**

**(I know there are quite a lot of people who aren't actually part of the Order such as Reg and Molly, but as there are less Order members than chapters, it had to be done anyway). Next chapter is McGonagall and will be more of a drabble; check out my profile for info about updates.**


	7. minerva

**7**

Professor (_Minerva_)

* * *

That morning, just like any other, Minerva McGonagall woke up at exactly half past six. She had a shower and got dressed and then proceeded to comb her hair in front of the mirror, trying to ignore the fact that she was definitely getting older; a few strands of grey had appeared in her dark hair. As she tied her hair, sighing, she heard an owl tapping on the window with its beak. She walked towards the window and opened it, hoping against hope that it was not bad news.

The saying no news is good news had never been truer than in these days of war.

She took the letter and watched as the great black owl flew away in the night. Shivering with cold, she quickly closed the window and went to sit on her bed. As soon as she opened the letter, her hands began to shake. It wasn't addressed to 'Professor McGonagall'. She did get a few letters from former students every once in a while. Even when they were older, most people she'd taught at Hogwarts couldn't bring themselves to call her Minerva, even inside the Order, therefore it was no one she'd taught in the past. It was someone older, as could be told from the unfamiliar handwriting spelling 'Minerva McGonagall'.

After over two decades of teaching, Minerva had developed a quite impressive knowledge of handwritings and she thought she could tell a lot about someone by the way they wrote. It wasn't a wooly subject like Divination - it was science. No matter how much Albus teased her about it. And this handwriting was curvy and large - the letter screamed the self-confidence of its owner. She snorted when she saw who'd sent it - indeed, Edgar Bones wasn't the most modest man she knew, and one of the Order members she sometimes had trouble getting along with. And yes, him having been in Slytherin might be one of the reasons, though she tried to be neutral to Houses.

The letter was very short, and obviously written in haste.

_Dear Minerva,_

_I hope you are well, and am most sorry to give you such bad news. _

_Even though Dumbledore will soon tell you, I wanted to make sure that you broke the news softly to her… One of my daughter's friends, Allison Smith, lost her father tonight. As you know, I cannot fill you in with the details in a letter, but Dumbledore will tell you all the information I could gather. Please do your best to comfort the Smith girl. It is also most important that she does not know about how her father died. He got run over by a car while investigating at night in a Muggle area for his newspaper..._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Edgar Bones_

_P.S.: I know we have not got on so well in the past, but you are the best Head of House Gryffindor could have, and my daughter speaks highly of you._

Minerva let the letter fall on her bed.

Yet another death to announce to one of her pupils.

She felt sick.

* * *

She made her way to the Great Hall - she didn't feel like having breakfast, really, but she had to, if she didn't want to faint in front of her students. As she walked down the stairs she was startled by Dumbledore. She had neither seen nor heard him coming, and yet he was suddenly walking beside her. It happened a lot, and one day she might have to tell him that heart attacks were frequent in her family. In truth, she just disliked it, but it was most convenient that the McGonagalls all lived in a remote part of Scotland.

"Good morning, Minerva."

"Good morning, Albus."

Minerva was aware of the coldness of her tone, but she didn't enjoy saying good morning when it definitely _wasn't_ a good morning. But Dumbledore enjoyed pleasantries at any time - she briefly entertained the strange thought of Albus wishing Voldemort a good day before blasting out a Killing Curse, but she shook it off as a result of the bad news she'd just received.

" - such bad news, though I don't know the girl personally," Albus was saying.

Minerva nodded as if she had followed the whole conversation. This alone showed how much this was troubling her, she who was always so concentrated. Dumbledore made as if he had not noticed, while he surely had.

"Clever girl," Minerva said shortly.

As always, it was the people she spoke the less of that she appreciated the most. As they entered the Great Hall, she bumped into someone and her spectacles fell from her nose.

"Oh, I am sorry," Minerva said.

She looked at the person she'd bumped into; it was Regulus Black, and he looked like he had barely slept. Minerva's expression turned from concerned to stiff; she couldn't help it, she just disliked the boy. He looked so much like his brother, and yet his personality was very different. She had liked Sirius Black quite a lot, even if she'd never have admitted it to his face, though he had been persuaded of her "burning passion" for him. That sentence he'd said in his fifth year had become Example number 12 of What Should Never Be Said To a Teacher, a guide she distributed to every first year ever since Black and his friends had set the school on fire (metaphorically, of course, thank Merlin). Since then, she'd never been told such a thing and she wondered if, deep down inside, she didn't regret it. At least, back then she had never been bored a minute.

"It's okay," Black muttered, his pale blue eyes already wandering away.

Thorfinn Rowle and his usual gang of Slytherins passed them by, snorting, and Rowle pushed Black inside like a puppet.

"How unfortunate it is that the boy is not more like his brother," Minerva said.

She regretted it the moment she said it; she wasn't used to stating preferrences as far as her students were concerned.

"Indeed," Albus murmured, nodding.

The Great Hall was filled with shouts and laughter, just like any other day. Minerva quickly looked over the Gryffindor table and spotted Allison Smith sitting between Olga Bones and Bonnie Field. Olga, a pretty little blonde girl, was making Allison laugh. With a pang, Minerva thought that Allison wouldn't be laughing for long.

"We will see her together at ten to eight in my office," Dumbledore said.

He gave her a reassuring smile and sat down, imitated by Minerva. She watched as he filled his plate as heartily as usual, but she couldn't eat much. She kept sneaking glances at the blissfully ignorant girl, dreading the moment when she'd have to tell her that her father was dead.

* * *

**Ugh, I sincerely apologize for the mediocrity of this chapter - I've got a job for this month and it's sucking up my time & creativity. I'm rather disheartened by the low number of reviews of the last chapters - so if you're reading this, you know what to do! Thanks.**


	8. frank

****

8

Work (_Frank_)

* * *

They were going to be late to work.

Frank and Alice hated being late.

Frank and Alice were _never _late.

Frank paused as he finished brushing his teeth. He looked at his wife, who was also brushing her teeth. They did practically everything together; with Alice, it had never been a burning passion, but with her he learnt to enjoy the little pieces of happiness life offered, the simple things that, in the end, mattered the most. The quiet kind of love was the best for him.

"Alice?"

"Yes, honey?"

Alice was now combing her short brown hair in haste, her round face concentrated.

"Is it worrying that I start every sentence in my head with 'me and Alice'?"

Frank didn't know any other bloke as romantic as him. He knew Alice liked it, but other people, all males, teased him about it, particularly the Prewett twins.

Alice smiled playfully. "Yes. You should start with 'Alice and me.' It's more polite."

Frank looked at his reflection in the mirror; he still looked unnerved.

"But you don't think I'm… too much, sometimes?"

Alice exited the bathroom and he followed her, grabbing his wintry robes on the way.

"Do you?"

Frank shrugged. "Not really."

Alice grinned as she put on her favourite yellow scarf. He helped her with her robes and a minute later they were Apparating in their usual empty street near the Ministry.

"Who put that idea in your head?" Alice asked curiously. "That we're too much?"

"Fab and Gid," Frank admitted.

Alice shook her head and Frank looked down sheepishly. Frank looked up to the Prewetts and considered them the coolest fellows he had ever met; Alice thought they didn't have a good influence on him.

"But Marlene said it once, too, that she couldn't understand how we were never tired of each other," Frank added.

He knew that mentioning Marlene could help his case; Marlene had been Alice's best friend since their first year in Hogwarts. They had both been in Hufflepuff.

"Oh!" Alice exclaimed, as if she had suddenly remembered something. "It's Mack's birthday today! I must owl her when I get a break this morning."

They entered the Ministry, walking as fast as they could; it was ten to eight, and Moody had told them to be there at fifteen to eight "at the very latest", which meant they were in for trouble.

"Did you get her that new broomstick you told me about?" Frank asked.

"Yeah. You know, she can't really afford it. Poor Mack. I can't even imagine what it's like to have so many siblings."

They stepped into the elevator, where the Prewetts were already standing. Alice watched Frank carefully as they exchanged hellos.

"Hey, lovebirds! What's up?" Gideon asked, clapping Frank on the back.

Frank smiled. He would never admit it, but his shoulder hurt a bit every time Gideon did this.

"The usual… except we're late."

"Oh, Moody's going to kill you," Gideon said conversationally. "Sometimes I'm really glad I'm on the Hit Patrol and not an Auror."

"Which has got nothing to do with the fact that you didn't make it on the Auror training," Fabian rolled his eyes.

"_You_ didn't make it either," Gideon pointed out.

The Prewetts looked equally flushed. Frank and Alice avoided their eyes, embarrassed.

"That's because we must always do the same thing," Fabian said.

"Yeah, right…"

There was a short silence; with Gideon, silences were never long. After a while, Gideon looked from Frank to Alice, frowning.

"Aren't you sick of being together all the time?"

Frank shrugged and gestured to the twins.

"Aren't _you_ sick of being together all the time?"

Fabian looked surprised. "It's not the same! We're twins."

"Yeah, we're practically the same person," Gideon said.

Frank smiled broadly, looking at Alice. "Same here."

Alice grinned back at him and blushed slightly. Fabian and Gideon made disgusted noises.

"Okay, I've heard enough cheesy lines for today," Gideon rolled his eyes. "Marlene already thanked me for the present I gave her by telling me "You're not funny". Really, she could have said something less romantic, I almost blushed when reading it."

"It's Marlene's birthday," Fabian explained.

Frank knew the twins quite well, and very often Fabian had to explain whatever was on his brother's mind – the working of Gideon's mind was a bit difficult to follow sometimes, especially when he added sarcasm.

"We know," Alice rolled her eyes. "She's my best friend, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Fabian said. "Sorry."

Frank had the distinct impression that the twins underestimated Alice; a lot of people did. They only saw a friendly, harmless, ordinary young woman, and often overlooked her. But she was an Auror, much cleverer than she looked and if there was a competition for Best Wife, Frank was sure she'd win hands down. Frank was often overlooked, too, but it was worse for Alice because she was a woman, and there was only one other female Auror.

"See you tonight," Fabian and Gideon said as one as they stepped out of the elevator and separated.

They got told off by Moody for a good five minutes, and then they were 'allowed' to go to their offices to catch up on paperwork. They also had to make up stories for the press concerning Harold Smith's death. Frank walked into his office with his head bowed and sat down dejectedly. When he looked up, Alice was standing in front of him.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked, concerned.

Frank sighed. "I think it's going to be a long day."

They looked at each other in silence for a while. Alice bit her lip, looking hesitant, and finally spoke up.

"I'm late."

Frank frowned.

"_We were _late. Five minutes ago."

Frank did not understand.

"No, I mean, I'm… late… you know."

Frank did _not_ understand. Alice sighed.

"Frank, I'm pregnant."

As Frank stared at Alice, astonished, words like _war_ or _twenty-one_ or _irresponsible_ (which sounded like they were being said by his mother's voice) quickly vanished. It took the better of one minute for Alice's words to properly sink in. When they did, Frank jumped up and took Alice in his arms, smiling broadly.

"Alice, I'm so happy."

She pulled back and he saw that her wide brown eyes were filled with tears. He kissed her forehead tenderly.

"So I am, Frank. So I am."

Frank sighed contentedly, sitting down again, unable to remove the smile from his face.

"A father at twenty-one… Fab and Gid are never going to let me live this down," Frank said.

Alice laughed lightly. "I hope you aren't thinking of making one of them godfather."

Frank shook his head. "Nope, I'd have to choose between them. But what I do know is that Mack will be godmother."

Alice nodded. "Thank you."

Alice hugged him tight, and then made her way out, humming cheerfully.

"I think it's going to be a great day," Frank said to his empty office, and started thinking about names.

* * *

**Running the risk of repeating myself - but please review.**


	9. bill

**9**

Tabooed (_Bill_)

* * *

As the clock struck eight, Bill Weasley entered the Burrow's kitchen to have breakfast. Dad was already gone to work, and Mum was already in the kitchen, feeding Fred and George while Percy cried over something - as far as Bill could tell, it involved Charlie and a broken toy; said Charlie was still sleeping. Bill was often astounded by his brother's capacity to sleep later than the rest of them. But Percy wasn't the only one crying; as Bill sat down, he could see that Mum's eyes were red and puffy.

"Are you okay, Mum?"

Mum, who had been distractedly glancing at a magazine disposed on the table, turned to him and smiled.

"I'm fine, dear, don't worry."

Bill nodded as if her poor show of I'm-Fine-Bill-Don't-Worry, which had become a habit as of late, had convinced him. Bill might be only nine years old, but he could feel the tension. He could feel that Mum was worrying about Uncle Fab and Uncle Gid, and about other people, too. Almost everyday, there were bad news in the newspaper. Dad used to leave the Daily Prophet on the kitchen table and Bill would sometimes read a few lines aloud to Mum in the mornings, to show off how well he could read and make fun of Charlie because he had more trouble reading. But Mum would snatch it from him with trembling hands and tell him off, for a reason Bill couldn't comprehend.

The Daily Prophet was full of words like 'attack', 'death' and 'You-Know-Who'. Bill didn't know exactly who _that_ was, but he did know that 'death' was one of the tabooed words. There were words that shall not be spoken.

One day, the Daily Prophet was no longer on the table. Now the only thing Mum let him read was Which Broomstick, the same magazine that was on the table.

"Percy, please just _eat_."

Percy was still crying. Mum sighed.

"Bill -"

"Yes, Mum. I'll tell him a story."

Mum smiled a strange smile. It was sad and happy at the same time. These days, it happened a lot.

"Thank you, dear."

Bill finished eating his toasts and went upstairs to fetch Percy's favourite book. While he'd tell Percy a story to quiet him, Mum would be able to make Fred and George eat. Sometimes Bill didn't like being the oldest; it meant quite a lot of responsibilities for a nine-year-old, and sometimes he got told off for yelling at Charlie or Percy while they had started it, and he often had to look after his brothers. But sometimes Bill didn't mind it, because it meant helping Mum, and he liked making her smile.

When Bill strolled back into the kitchen, Mum was reading a letter. Bill petted the cute little brown owl and then watched as it flew away. It was snowing outside; maybe he could have a snowball fight with Charlie later.

"Ah," Mum exclaimed, sounding pleased, "good news at last!"

Bill turned to her. Mum smiled again, and this time it was plain happy.

"It's from Frank and Alice. They're going to have a baby!"

"That's great, Mum," Bill said, smiling back at her.

Bill sat down next to Percy, who quietened as soon as he saw the book in Bill's hand.

"I'm so happy for them," Mum said, sighing. "Now Fred, George, please be nice and eat and _not_ throw food at Mummy again."

His youngest brothers behaved for a few minutes. Meanwhile, Bill read the book to a calm Percy, and Mum was humming the latest song by Celestina Warbeck. Just as Bill thought they were going to make it without any trouble, the twins decided otherwise.

"George!" Mum cried.

Bill stopped reading and looked up at her; she had food all over her face. Fred was brandishing his spoon like a war weapon while George watched him, smiling. Bill might not have that much experience with babies, but he'd never seen such naughty one-year-olds.

"That's Fred, Mum," Bill said.

Mum turned to him, surprised.

"How do you know?"

Mum looked guilty that he could always tell them apart and she didn't. Bill shrugged.

"I just know."

Really, he couldn't explain it.

"Well, _Fred_, looks like you won't get away with everything if Bill knows who you are."

The twins didn't look the slightest bit frightened - but then, they were only twenty months old, they weren't supposed to understand everything, were they?

Mum warily resumed feeding Fred and George; two minutes later, Bill had finished reading the book.

"Mum, can Percy and I go to see if Charlie's up?" Bill asked.

"Of course," Mum said. "Please put your dishes in the sink, Bill, thank you."

Bill did as he was told and then made his way towards the door, closely followed by Percy.

"Bill?"

Bill turned at the sound of Mum's voice. Mum beamed.

"You're a good boy, Bill. Thanks for helping me."

Bill nodded. "No problem, Mum."

Bill turned again, thinking he could leave, but Mum called him again.

"Bill, can I cut your hair tomorrow?"

"But _Mum_!" Bill protested. "You know I hate scissors!"

Mum put her hands on her hips. "Would you rather your father do it the Muggle way?"

Bill shuddered at the thought.

"No," Bill muttered gloomily. "I'd rather no one did it."

"If you let me do it, I might get you that illustrated book about Quidditch for Christmas."

"You will?" Bill asked in awe. "Okay, then... but don't cut it too short."

Bill was a bit disgruntled by the fact that she had tricked him; but, at least, he'd get the chance to have what he wanted for Christmas, and not just the usual knitted sweater.

Mum laughed. "Good. I love you, Bill."

"Love you too, Mum."

That was the moment when George decided that Mum's face definitely looked better with food on it.

"Fred! Not _again_!"

Bill couldn't help but chuckle and, before he left, he enlighted Mum.

"This time, it was George."

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews! I just wrote next chapter, which is Caradoc, and I had so much fun writing it that I can barely wait to post it, but I had to post this one first for chronological order. Please review!**


	10. caradoc

**10**

Forbidden (_Caradoc_)

* * *

"It's nine o'clock, you can start," said Caradoc Dearborn.

Caradoc watched as the fifteen students took their quills and eagerly started writing. The subject of today's assignment was: _Discuss the pros and cons of werewolf legislation._

Caradoc was twenty-three and had been in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for five years. His best friends, the Prewett twins, also worked for this Department since they were part of the Hit Patrol. Caradoc worked for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and occasionally gave a hand to train the newcomers to the Department. These students were barely younger than Caradoc – nineteen or twenty – but with his six feet three inches and his broad shoulders, he was impressive enough to command respect. He hadn't had any trouble since he'd started training students in September - except that an eighteen-year-old girl had asked him out, to his complete bewilderment. He had given as a pretext that there was a law that forbade him to date students, while there were none, and since that day he always hoped the girl would believe him and not try and look for that unexisting law.

For half an hour, the silence was only broken by the scratching of quills on parchment, a sound Caradoc particularly liked, especially when he wasn't the one writing the assignment. But suddenly, the door was flung open. Most students looked up from their work to stare, bewildered, at the two red-haired young men standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, it's forbidden to come in here," Caradoc said. "Unless it's a case of emergency, which I doubt, judging by your perfectly carefree faces."

"Just stopping by to say hello," Fabian said.

Fabian and Gideon grinned broadly at him. Caradoc's sighed and pretended to be angry. He walked towards the twins with a swagger.

"Out, you lot!" Caradoc said, speaking in a voice even deeper than usual. "Or I'll drag you out myself!"

"_Oh_," Gideon said in a fake, high voice. "Fab, I think I might just be wetting myself from fear. Look at those muscles –"

"And the _hair_, Gideon," Fabian said, shaking his head earnestly. "You know I can't resist blonde hair."

Caradoc tried to hide a smile, but it was obvious that the effects of his show of intimidation were wearing off. The male students were looking between Caradoc and the twins as though wishing they would engage into a duel, and most female students were giggling, especially the ones Caradoc knew fancied him.

"Let's deal with you outside," Caradoc said, "we don't want kids watching."

A few of said 'kids' grumbled at the comment, but one glance from Caradoc's dark green eyes and the silence was back.

"I'm leaving you on your own for a few minutes; now this is not a marked exam, so I'll trust you with this. You're old enough not to copy on each other."

Caradoc pushed the twins outside and, as soon as the door was closed, his deep laugh echoed through the corridor.

"You twats," Caradoc said fondly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, business is slack at the moment, so we figured we'd get ourselves a break and come and see you," Fabian said.

"Hadn't seen you in days, so we missed you," Gideon finished.

Caradoc thought there was a hint of accusation in Gideon's tone – in truth, he hadn't seen his best friends much for the past weeks. He had been busy with work and with a woman, too, but there was no telling them that.

"I'm sorry," Caradoc said, looking down guiltily. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, we heard," Fabian smirked.

"It's true then? That you're dating No Panties?" Gideon asked eagerly.

"What?" Caradoc asked, shocked.

He did _not_ like the turn this conversation was taking.

"I mean, Victoria… what's her name? Snilly?" Gideon asked.

"Victoria Stilly," Caradoc corrected, rather coldly.

"Ah, yes. I knew it was something that sounded like silly. Poor girl."

"We call her No Panties," Fabian explained.

Fabian and Gideon looked up at him with identical innocent smiles. This particular smile wasn't unfamiliar to Caradoc at all – after twelve years of knowing the twins, he had encountered it many times, and had learnt to fear it. Caradoc sighed and lowered his voice as a group of colleagues passed by. Victoria, a pretty dark-haired girl, worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Caradoc was grateful that she didn't wander those corridors. Both he and Victoria had made it clear that it was just a fling, but he'd rather she didn't know the nickname the twins had kindly gave her.

"Speaking of nicknames, do you know how Sirius calls you behind your back?" Caradoc said, smiling widely, showing off his white teeth.

"I don't want to know how that git calls us," Gideon growled.

"Funny choice of words. He calls you the Fab Gits," Caradoc said, ignoring Gideon.

Caradoc couldn't help but laughed at the dark looks the twins gave him.

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't invent that one! Though you've got to admit, it's quite good. Gid becomes Git and -"

"Yes, we see the working, thank you very much," Fabian rolled his eyes. "What a prick."

"Tonight, I'm going to slap Black," Gideon announced. "Once. Or maybe twice. And I'd like to see what his blood looks like."

Caradoc hid another smile. Maybe he should change the subject; he didn't want any fights to happen tonight and, judging by the dreamy look on Gideon's face, the odds were against it being an idle threat. They had enough to do with the whole Harold Smith mayhem.

"I hate to ask this, but why do you call Victoria that?"

"What do you think, silly?" Gideon scoffed. "_She wears no panties._"

"That's not true!"

The moment the words of protest left his mouth, Caradoc regretted them. They had tricked him again. Caradoc blushed and ran a hair through his long blonde hair, trying to come up with a decent retort and, as often, miserably failing.

"How do you know that?" Fabian smirked, looking like he already knew the answer but like he wanted to ask anyway.

"_Aha_!" Gideon exclaimed, triumphant. "You checked!"

By now Caradoc's face most likely resembled a giant tomato.

"I – didn't – _check_," Caradoc muttered, gritting his teeth. "I just… can't imagine her wearing no panties under her robes, that's all. I admit that she's a bit, ah, feisty - but I'm pretty sure she wears panties, so please don't make me say this again. I suspect you enjoy this much more than you should."

Gideon shrugged. "Whatever you say, mate. But you could have told us, at least."

"Yeah, you know how we hate gossiping. We wouldn't have told anyone."

The twins had scared away the last steady girlfriend Caradoc had had; that was why he tried to keep it to himself.

"Of course," Caradoc said, rolling his eyes. "You two are worse than old ladies living in remote villages. Just leave me alone now. I'm working, unlike you two. Does your boss know you're here?"

"What boss?" Gideon grinned.

"Oh, Edgar's cool," Fabian said, shrugging. "Don't worry about us, dearie."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I told you on."

It was Caradoc's turn to smile innocently. The twins paled imperceptibly; revenge was sweet but, unfortunately, it was also of short duration.

"You wouldn't," Gideon said in his usual self-confident tone. "Because if you did, we'd tell everyone you slept with No Panties –"

"I did _not_ sleep with No Pant – I mean, Victoria. And she _does_ wear panties. End of story."

"Methinks you wouldn't be so touchy about her if she meant nothing to you," Gideon said.

Caradoc sighed, annoyed. He had to admit that Gideon had a point. He also knew that whatever gossip Gideon and Fabian had heard was true; he just didn't like discussing his love life in corridors where everybody could hear, and phrases like 'no panties' were overused.

"By the way, how's Marlene?" Caradoc asked innocently.

Gideon's triumphant smirk vanished and his blue eyes changed.

"Now_ that_ was hitting below the belt," Fabian commented.

"Because the whole No Panties thing wasn't hitting below the belt _at all_," Caradoc said.

There was a short silence during which the three men studied each other, corners of mouths twitching, eyes twinkling in spite of themselves. Caradoc couldn't stay annoyed at his best friends for long.

"A morning without annoying my dear, ridiculously _small_ friend Caradoc and a good dose of sarcasm on both parts isn't a happy morning, so thank you for lighting up my day," Gideon said, bowing. "Goodbye."

Gideon turned to leave. Fabian leaned towards Caradoc in a conspiratorial manner.

"He's a bit deranged because we just learnt Frank and Alice were going to have a baby."

"Really? That's great. Well, I guess it was bound to happen, what with them being together all the time."

Caradoc got on well with Frank and Alice, but he had to admit he had never tried of being closer to them. They just passed each other by at the Ministry, exchanged hellos and, of course, worked together in the Order, but it had never been anything more.

"That's what I told Gid," Fabian said, nodding. "But you know how much that man is hard to reason."

Caradoc knew all right. Fabian looked to the direction Gideon had left, obviously already thinking about following him out. They both knew Caradoc had to go back inside. Caradoc suddenly remembered about Fabian's owl he'd received one hour previously; how Dorcas had been attacked and was now resting in St Mungo's. He knew the twins laughed things off easily, and that Fabian and Dorcas's relationship was, as far as he knew, not exactly going great, but he still felt he should ask him.

"With all your antics, I didn't even ask you how Dorcas was," Caradoc said.

"She's better. Marlene owled me when she got home. Nothing to worry about."

Caradoc had the distinct feeling he would get nothing else out of Fabian; when he was without his brother, Fabian tended to be quieter.

"A lot happening these days, both good and bad," Caradoc commented darkly. "Mostly bad."

Fabian nodded, looking thoughtful for a few seconds, and then clapped him on the shoulder.

"See you tonight, dearie," Fabian said, smiling.

Them calling him dearie in reference of his family name was a running joke between the three of them.

"And we won't tell," Fabian added. "Honor between thieves, and all."

Caradoc shrugged. "I'm not afraid. There's nothing to tell."

Fabian shook his head gravely. "You, my friend, are living in denial."

Caradoc watched them leave without adding anything; sometimes it was just easier to let the twins have their way.

* * *

**I changed the timeline of the story. It takes place on December 17th instead of December 1st because otherwise it would be too soon for Alice to know that she was pregnant. Also, if you're interested, I based Caradoc's physical decription on Magnus Lund, an English rugby player who just joined the team of Biarritz (that's where I live). I'm so proud to have an English bloke in the team! And it doesn't hurt that he has wonderful eyes and _I _****can't resist blonde hair (though Fabian probably can). Pretty much all of this chapter came to me from a picture of him. Weird, I know. You can find a link to it at the end of my profile.**

**I hope you had as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it! (As can be seen by my long, rambling author's note, and the fact that I updated twice in one weekend.) Please tell me.**


	11. lily

**11**

Godric's Hollow (_Lily_)

* * *

Lily Potter rested her head against a tattered red armchair and listened as rain began to pour. The armchair was James's favourite and, no matter how many times Lily pointed out to him how old and uncomfortable it was, James wouldn't have it moved. It had belonged to his parents, and Lily could only imagine Mr Potter sitting on it, reading the Daily Prophet; Mr and Mrs Potter had died that summer. Lily wouldn't admit it to James because she had great respect for their memory, but she didn't like having their furniture. It reminded her everyday of what they had lost. Fortunately, James and she had had their own flat for over a year, but she'd like to go somewhere else, far away from London.

She wanted to a new setting for their lives, especially now that they were three.

Lily smiled. She had learnt she was pregnant four days before but James, Sirius, Remus and Peter were the only ones who knew it as of yet. She was, for some reason, reluctant to tell the Order. Because she didn't want to be any trouble for them, because a pregnant woman meant more danger, and she wouldn't be able to fight anymore. She was also quite wary of other people's reactions: they were at war, and James and she weren't even twenty. But she had worked up the courage to tell them that night, especially when she had received the owl from Frank and Alice. She had been pleasantly surprised; maybe having a baby now wasn't such a crazy idea, after all.

"What are you doing, love?"

James appeared in the doorway of the living room, dark hair still damp from the shower.

"When did you wake up, sleepyhead?" Lily asked teasingly.

James smiled his usual lopsided grin as he walked towards her and kissed her lips gently.

"Fifteen minutes ago," James admitted.

"Which means you woke up at ten o'clock," Lily stated, hiding a smile.

She had never known a smile as infectious as James's. It almost made her forget that Remus was out there under the rain, going to attend to his mother's funeral – he had insisted that none of them should go with him. He had said he didn't want to bother them. Lily had never known anyone else who excused themselves for attending the funeral of one of their parents. Remus had also said funerals were not good for babies. Remus, as clever as he might be, sometimes said the worst pieces of rubbish.

"That's right, ma'am. So sorry, ma'am. Have no excuse, ma'am."

Lily made to hit him with her magazine; James dodged and retreated on the couch.

"If you call me ma'am ever again, I shall hex you," Lily said conversationally, returning to her magazine.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, some Muggle magazine I bought about homes in the English countryside," Lily said without looking up.

The page she was currently reading sang the praise of Godric's Hollow, a little village in the South West. The photographs showed a rural, quiet-looking village. She wondered if James would like it, if he wouldn't be too bored there.

"Why are you reading this?"

Lily looked up at James; he was frowning. Lily sighed and put down her magazine.

"I think we should move in the near future."

"But why? There's room here, you know, if Sirius stops spending half his nights here. There's Remus's room, and ours, and I thought we could turn the study into the baby's room – I mean, I know it's rather small, but it's a _baby_, so it doesn't need a big place, right?"

James was looking at her hopefully. Lily smiled slightly; she was touched that he had already thought of that.

"James, I don't want the baby to grow up here, it's too dangerous… Do you?"

James looked away, and for a while the only sound was the rain clattering against the window.

"I… guess you're right," James finally said.

Lily went to sit down next to him on the couch and snuggled against him, caressing his neck and shoulders.

"James, I know this baby is going to change a lot of things, and I also know that it won't always be easy. But there's one thing that won't change."

James turned to her and they smiled.

"And that's you and me?" James said.

"Exactly," Lily said softly.

James kissed her and then put his hand carefully on Lily's stomach, approaching his head.

"Hello, there," James said. "I'm James Potter, otherwise known as The Bullying Toerag, and even though I'm sometimes a complete twat, I'm going to be your father, like it or not. And I'll always love you so you'd better love me back or we might have some conflicts and as your mother knows, I always win in the end. Oh, and I'm sorry, but your godfather will also be a maniac. Fortunately for you, you're going to have the best mum you could hope for."

James looked up at Lily, who was smiling and crying at the same time.

"I know, it's stupid to talk to the baby, I know he can't hear me yet –"

"It's not stupid," Lily cut in hoarsely. "I love you, James."

She hugged him tight as he said he loved her too.

"You said 'he', but it could be a girl," Lily said.

James made a face. "A girl? No way! I want a little James Potter."

By now Lily knew he was arrogant only to tease her; his hazel eyes were twinkling more than never.

"I hope you aren't thinking of giving him or her one of the stupid names Sirius and you come up with, like Kendrick or Elvendork, because this kid is going to have a nice, _normal_ name, like Julie or John or Harry."

"But I like Elvendork! Besides, it's –"

"Unisex, I know," Lily cut in, rolling her eyes.

"But that's handy, since at first we don't know if the baby's a boy or a girl. Think about it, Lily! Elvendork could be the answer to all our problems!"

"But we don't have problems, James, _you_ do. Besides, I don't know if anybody ever told you, but once the baby's born, we _do_ know whether it's a boy or a girl."

Chuckling to herself, Lily stood up and made her way out.

"Well _I_ think Harry is a stupid name," James said in a disgruntled tone.

Lily stopped on the doorstep and replied lightly, without bothering to turn:

"It's settled, then. We're calling him Harry."

* * *

**I'm sorry if this chapter is too sappy for you, but it just wrote itself this way! Please review; I'm not having a great week, so reviews would cheer me up. Thanks. Oh, by the way, I just made a Caradoc icon, it's the icon on my profile page.**


	12. remus

**12**

Funeral (_Remus_)

* * *

It was raining when they buried her; the perfect weather for a funeral.

Remus wondered how many funerals he would have to attend to in the following months, or – he dreaded this – maybe years. But it wasn't this death he had prepared himself for; when joining the Order, he had known he and his friends could die at any moment. He had forgotten that his parents weren't immortal, either.

His mother - fragile, little Ariadne Lupin - had died four days ago. And really, if Remus had paid more attention, it wouldn't have been such a shock. As his father so kindly reminded him, he didn't visit them much. Living at James and Lily's was easier, more practical, and of course it was livelier. Remus truly didn't want to live with his parents, not when he felt so much guilt towards his mother, and so much resentment towards his father. Not when they lived in a lone, small house in the woods where no one dared to come; it was said that the house was haunted, and it was true, at least on full moon nights.

And now Remus felt even guiltier. He wished he had visited his mother more often lately. He wished he had realized that her health, while it had never been good, had been getting worse for months.

"It's over," Dad said suddenly.

It was the first time Remus saw tears in his father's eyes. He realized how old and tired he looked. But even now, when they should have shared a father and son moment, he was distant. Rain was sticking Remus's hair to his face and the sky was of such a dark shade of grey that, while it was almost noon, it could have been five or six o'clock. Mum would have hated it, Remus decided. Yes, he thought Mum would have wanted a blue sky; but then, did he know her that well? Had she changed since those days when he was a scared, lonely little boy and she made him hot chocolate and they read together?

"You can go now," Dad said. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

His father always said the right things to increase Remus's guilt. Remus had used the Order as a pretext not to visit them often and it was obvious his father resented him for it.

"It's your fault she's dead," Remus said before he could stop himself.

"How… how dare you say that?"

Remus forced himself to look into his father's cold, shocked eyes. Remus looked little like his father, except for the nose, maybe, and the light brown hair, and he didn't want to become like him. Remus had always secretly wished he had parents like James's, Lily's, or even Peter's (not Sirius's - he wouldn't go so far).

"You know what I mean. She was never the same after the attack –"

"_You_ got bitten!" Dad cried. "You, not me! You were the one who ran off into the forest one night –"

"I was seven! I didn't know what I was doing! I was following the cat out and – Greyback was waiting there, Dad. If you hadn't offended him, it would never have happened."

Remus had finally uttered the unspoken words that had hung around the Lupin's home for too long, infesting the air, driving Remus away. Remus couldn't help but blame his father for having been bitten, even though he knew he wasn't entirely his father's fault. For years, he had overheard his parents arguing about it; his mother was the one who blamed herself most, for some reason. She thought she should have looked after Remus and that it should never had happened.

There was a long silence; Remus and his father walked away from the graveyard, looking in opposite directions.

"It might be partly my fault," Dad admitted. "Guilt has eaten us up. It has destroyed our family. It's too late now, Remus."

"It's never too late," Remus said hoarsely.

Dad smiled sadly, gesturing to the graveyard behind them. "It is. Your mother's gone."

The tears Remus had somehow managed to hold back so far suddenly filled his eyes and rolled down his pale cheeks like burning waterfalls. He was grateful he had forbidden his friends to come; he didn't want them to see him so vulnerable. He didn't want them to try and comfort him: he needed to let go. He had kept so much emotion inside for so many years that he felt like it would never end.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, Mum… forgive me, please, forgive me."

Dad gave him a brief, one-armed hug, looking uncomfortable. Remus's throat was dry and his words were choked. To try and feel better, he imagined what it would have been like if his friends had been with him.

James would have been wonderfully grave and his every move would have been appropriate. His eyes would have spoken for his heart and said he knew what he felt like to lose a parent.

Lily would have clung to his arm and cried with him. _"Cry, Remus... let go... I'm here with you."_

Peter would have stood next to him and given him awkward taps on the shoulder, repeating the ordinary words. _"I'm sorry, Moony, I really am... If there's anything I can do, just let me know."_

And Sirius... well, Sirius probably wouldn't have come anyway. He always said he hated funerals.

"It's too late," Dad repeated, his voice softer this time. "It's time to move on now. Live your life like your mother would have wanted you to. Don't let guilt drive you insane; one of us is much enough."

Remus was crying so hard he almost had trouble breathing, and he was barely aware of his father walking away from him. If it had been a novel, Remus would have fallen on his knees and not cared about the mud on his clothes, and wept until he had no tears left.

But it wasn't a novel, it was merely his life and, after a few minutes of looking at the graveyard in the distance and trying to calm down, Remus Disapparated to the place he called home, longing for hugs and kind words and a warm cup of tea, and yet knowing that nothing would cure his guilt.


	13. albus

**13**

Crown (_Albus_)

* * *

Albus entered the Hog's Head at exactly one o'clock. Expectedly, it was empty save for his brother, and two men wearing hoods drinking in a dark corner. Edgar and he had an appointment, but Albus knew fully well that Edgar was often late.

"Good day, Aberforth," Albus said lightly.

His brother merely grunted in return, and resumed polishing his ever dirty glasses. Albus inwardly sighed (he would not give him the satisfaction to really do it) and made his way to a table as far from the two customers as he could. He sat down and patiently waited in silence. He thought of Remus Lupin, who was at his mother's funeral; Albus had offered him to accompagny him, but Remus had very characteristically refused. Albus said to himself that he should talk to him later; the boy - _young man, _really, he corrected himself, time passed by so fast - had an awful habit of blaming himself for everything and Albus knew from personal experience that it never brought anything good.

A few minutes later, Edgar made his grand entrance; as soon as he stepped in, the two customers stopped talking, and Aberforth even looked up from his glasses.

"I am here, Edgar," Albus called.

Edgar nodded and strolled towards him of his usual purposeful step. They shook hands firmly and Edgar sat down in front of Albus. He looked tired and worried; there were dark circles around his green eyes. Albus smiled sadly.

"How did she take the news?" Edgar asked anxiously, his voice low.

Albus sighed. "She's a little girl. Just as was expected."

Edgar nodded and looked away; a few seconds later, he shook his head and forced a slight smile.

"I haven't eaten for hours," Edgar said.

"Aberforth!" Albus called. "Would you be so kind as to –"

Aberforth emitted an affirmative grumble.

"Good, thank you," Albus said. "What will you have, Eddie?"

This time, Edgar's smile was wide and sincere.

"I thought I'd told you if you called me that once more, I shall have to call you _Brian_. And we both know nobody would want that."

Albus chuckled. "I wish you hadn't told me that. I enjoy annoying you every once in a while."

Edgar rolled his eyes, but Albus was glad he had cheered him up.

"What will you have?"

"I could do with eggs and bacon."

Aberforth walked towards them, his mouth mocking.

"And what will you have, _sir_?"

Albus smiled serenely. "Do you have popcorn and toffee?"

His brother gaped at him. Edgar chuckled quietly, and Albus had trouble refraining from joining him.

"Seriously," Albus said, "scones with jam and cream would be wonderful."

Muttering and shaking his head, Aberforth made his way towards the kitchen he only usually used for himself.

"Dumbledore, your love of sweet things will be the death of you," Edgar said, still smiling. "But who am I to judge? I like my Firewhiskey."

Albus saw Edgar giving the two customers a wary look. Albus knew them a little bit and thought they had nothing to worry about, but it was still safer not to discuss things openly.

"Concerning what I told you about when we last saw each other, I have made some progresses, but I still haven't found what I'm looking for," Albus said. "I do have names, but no certainties."

"I see," Edgar said.

Albus scribbled _Reynard Lestrange_ on one of the numerous spare pieces of parchment he always kept in the pockets of his robes. Reynard Lestrange, the second of the Lestrange brothers - younger than Rodolphus and older than Rastaban - was his best bet. Albus threw the piece of parchment at Edgar across the table.

"This is my favourite flavour of Bertie Bott's Beans," Albus said, gesturing to the parchment.

Edgar had a look at the name and frowned. He then casually set it on fire with his wand and smirked.

"I've always known you liked the ear wax one," Edgar said.

Albus chuckled. "And I knew you would cheer me up, after this dreadful morning. Thank you, Edgar."

"Anytime, Dumbledore," Edgar said.

But Edgar's expression was somber again, and Albus changed the subject.

"How is little Alba?"

He knew that would bring Edgar's smile back. Albus remembered the days when neither of them would have believed Edgar would ever be a proud father - yes, Albus was definitely glad he had trusted him.

"She's doing great," Edgar said, grinning. "Ocasionally complains about her name, though."

Albus smiled slightly. "I guess it is not very fashionable name."

Albus had been so proud when Edgar had named his daughter after him - he had no children himself, but he had come to care about Edgar and his family as he would have for his own, and visited them every now and then.

"She's already waiting for her Hogwarts letter, even if it won't come for a few months."

"If she gets one," Albus said, his eyes twinkling.

Edgar laughed. "She will. She's already magical."

Aberforth arrived and deposited strange-looking eggs and burnt bacon in front of Edgar. Albus looked down mildly at the scones his brother gave him, trying not to wince.

"There you go," Aberforth grumbled.

"Thank you," Albus said, as sweetly as he could manage, dismissing him.

Aberforth nodded and walked away. Albus's eyes followed him until he was out of earshot and, when he turned back to Edgar, he saw that the dark-haired man was torn between laughter and disgust.

"I am most sorry," Albus whispered. "If I had known you wanted to eat, we would have gone to the Crown, but I did not want to hurt Aberforth's feelings."

His brother had always been a terrible cook - not that Albus was any better.

"It's quite alright," Edgar said, laughing. "I'm so hungry I can eat this."

Then they ate in comfortable silence, ocasionnally slipping in a few words about Hogwarts or Edgar's family or his job, never mentioning Harold Smith or anything Order related. Edgar kept sneaking glances at the two hooded men.

"I am having someone taking care of our friend," Albus said.

He was, of course, referring to Reynard Lestrange; he had asked Sturgis Podmore to go and interrogate him that afternoon.

Edgar nodded. "Okay. We will talk about this tonight, anyway."

"Yes," Albus said. "Is everyone informed?"

"Yes, I made sure of it myself. Well, I have to go now."

Edgar stood up and enveloped himself in his thick black wintry robes.

"Thank you, Aberforth," Edgar called out. "I'll see you tonight."

And Edgar walked out of the Hog's Head, leaving his eggs and bacon half eaten. Albus couldn't blame him; he could still remember the stomach-ache he had had once when he had eaten scrambled eggs cooked by his brother, years ago. Ah, those were the days.

* * *

**Please excuse the extremely random use of the prompt, but I thought it was a tough one. I enjoyed writing Edgar again, especially with Dumbledore, so please tell me if you enjoyed reading it! I have no idea how I'll manage to finish this story before Uni starts and/or gets hectic. I'll finish it, but I don't know when. In the meantime, please review!**


	14. narcissa

**14**

Diamonds (_Narcissa_)

* * *

Narcissa had always thought that rain fitted her perfectly - delicate, cold and determined.

So did the diamonds that were currently decorating her frail, pale neck - a gift from Lucius for the upcoming birth, which he had given her the week before, when they had learnt the child was a boy. She clearly remembered the relief and pride in Lucius's eyes at the news. As far as she was concerned, Narcissa didn't care whether the baby was a boy or a girl, but she could see that Lucius did.

Downstairs, Dobby was clearing the dishes, remainders of yet another lonely lunch. She stood in the great bedroom, in front of the ancient mirror, listening to the rain pour.

Lucius was out, as always, working for the Dark Lord to try and take care of the mess that stupid journalist had created - a Muggle, no doubt, or perhaps Half Blood? These people suffered from a severe lack of sense.

There was a spy inside their ranks, and she had no idea who it was.

Well, she did have an idea: Rodolphus...

"Rodolphus," she whispered to her reflection.

It was all for the pleasure of saying his name, now quite unfamiliar to her tongue - for she would no longer call him. She had Lucius, and it was so obvious they belonged together that it was almost ridiculous. Two tall, icy figures with very light blonde hair, with eyes where pride mixed with scorn, but not with cold-heartedness.

She blushed in anger. It was only because she had been jealous that charming Rodolphus had chosen Bellatrix and not her. Narcissa had been only thirteen at the time, a child, useless and whiny, and Bella had always been the brightest star of the three sisters. But this had happened years ago, and she had no rational reasons to suspect Rod now.

A storm broke out, and along with the thunderstorm came to her flashes of dark eyes, teasing smiles and suave laughter.

Narcissa shivered. She put her hand on her slightly swollen belly and smiled as her breathing became even again. He wouldn't be just the Malfoy heir, he would be _her_ child.

Another thunderstorm - if not Rodolphus, then maybe Reynard? Snarky, vicious Reynard, the least loved of the three Lestrange brothers... hadn't she heard that he'd lost a lot of money from gambling? She thought it was probably only rumours, but it was still safer to check. Quickly she thought of a code, remembering the many times Lucius had lectured her about it. The name Reynard came from the French word for fox, so she settled on that, hoping Lucius would trust her and inquire.

She sent an owl to Lucius - _I think it's the fox, for the money _- and watched as the large white owl soared and flew out of sight.

Had it not been for the baby, she would have felt so lonely.

* * *

**I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I'll start Uni soon and I have no idea how I'm going to finish this fic.. Please review anyway! Thanks.**


	15. sturgis

**15**

Book (_Sturgis_)

* * *

Sturgis Podmore was drenched as he repeatedly knocked on Reynard Lestrange's door. How Dumbledore had even managed to get Lestrange's adress, Sturgis couldn't imagine, but, as he stood there, somewhere lost and green and _very_ wet in Devon, he wished he was back home in London, warming up beside a nice fire. He had taken a day off from the Ministry on Dumbledore's request, and he was now regretting it, especially as Reynard Lestrange didn't seem to be home - Sturgis, who liked his little comfort, couldn't even think of leaving in a tiny, ragged house like Lestrange's. It was obvious the rumours were true: Lestrange lacked money, whether it was from gambling, drinking, or his family disinheriting him, Sturgis didn't know.

The last time Sturgis had looked at his watch, it was ten past two, and he felt like hours had passed by since then, though it was most likely only minutes. At last, the door opened.

"My, my, a visitor."

Reynard Lestrange offered him a crooked smile, revealing yellow teeth that almost made Sturgis cringe - he was, as his friends so kindly put it, a bit of a hygiene fanatic. But, at least, Lestrange made no move for his wand.

"I'd like to talk to you," Sturgis said. "Can I come in?"

Reynard Lestrange was still smiling. He looked considerably older since the last time Sturgis had seen him, which had been twelve years previously, when Sturgis had entered Hogwarts for his seventh year and had watched the Sorting (in Slytherin, of course), of the second Lestrange brother.

"In that case, give me your wand, Podmore."

Sturgis smiled amicably. "I think I'd rather keep it, thank you."

Lestrange made to close the door. Sturgis stopped him, wondering why Dumbledore hadn't sent someone who looked more intimidating, like Edgar or Caradoc.

"Please, I just want to talk. No fighting," Sturgis said.

The door opened again. Lestrange looked at him expectantly.

"Why should I talk to you? What do I get in return?"

Sturgis sighed. "If you want some money..."

Sturgis trailed off, and didn't miss the greedy glint in Lestrange's eyes. He looked away, pretending nothing had happened, and studied the living room which, apparently, was also the kitchen. It was very small and dirty; the walls were bare, and there were no pictures, no newspapers, not even a single book. Sturgis couldn't survive without books.

"How much is old Dumbledore ready to give the crook to know what he wants to know?"

Sturgis hated his sneering voice. He knew that, even if he had really been giving information to Harold Smith, it wasn't to turn against Voldemort; it was merely for the money he had got in return, and he wasn't better than the rest of them.

"Why don't you let me in first?"

Lestrange nodded and Sturgis came in. Lestrange's wand was pointed directly to his chest.

"For obvious safety reasons," Lestrange said, gesturing to his wand.

"I'm not going to kill you," Sturgis said coolly.

"But maybe _I _am," Lestrange said, smiling.

He looked even more disgusting and scary when he smiled. Sturgis shook his head; if Dumbledore had had reasons to worry about that, he wouldn't have asked him to go alone.

"Pray sit down," Lestrange said, his eyes still mocking him.

Sturgis remained standing.

"So," Lestrange said. "How much?"

"How about a hundred Galleons now, and another hundred when you've told me?"

Lestrange guffawed. "Two hundred Galleons? Is that what you goody-goody people think my fucking life's worth? They're going to kill me if they ever find out!"

Sturgis scowled at him. "Personally, I think two hundred Galleons for your life is a pretty good deal. And they're probably going to find out anyway; we don't exactly think You-Know-Who's stupid. You shouldn't have got yourself in this mess in the first place."

"Yeah, I should have joined the _good_ side in the first place, right? Of course, it would have been so much easier_._"

"At least you wouldn't be in this situation now," Sturgis retorted.

"Well, I could be dead. Like you lot will be soon. The Dark Lord will eliminate you all."

"I'd rather be dead than be like you," Sturgis said calmly.

Sturgis could have sworn there was a flicker of pain in Lestrange's eyes, but it was gone one second later.

"I want five hundred. And protection."

"Then you're the one who was filling Smith in."

Lestrange sighed; suddenly he was sitting on a very tattered couch, his head in his hands - his wand was lowered.

"I don't know what to do," Lestrange whined. "I shouldn't have done this, but I really needed the money, and Smith gave me quite a lot, and... _they_ never liked me. Treat me like scum. Rodolphus is the handsome one, Rabastan the clever one, and I always was... nothing."

Sturgis couldn't help but feel pity for him, even though he strongly disagreed with the choices he'd made, and didn't like the man at all.

"They disinherited you, didn't they?"

"Threaten to disinherit me," Lestrange corrected. "If I hadn't joined the Dark Lord, I could have said goodbye to all those Galleons... but even after that, they still gave my brothers more money that they gave me. And now I've lost everything."

Lestrange raised his head, looking like he had just waken up from a nightmare.

"I want my money."

Sturgis gave him one hundred Galleons, trying to forget that this wasn't exactly a solution.

"I'll take you to Dumbledore," Sturgis said. "See what we can do to protect you."

"You can't," Lestrange said. "The Dark Lord's got ways..."

It was this moment that someone chose to knock on the door. Lestrange's eyes widened with fear and he pointed his wand at the door.

"We have to go," Sturgis said calmly, drawing out his wand. "They're going to come in anyway."

Reynard Lestrange muttered under his breath as Sturgis grasped his arm.

"We're going to Apparate to Hogsmeade and go and see Dumbledore at once," Sturgis said. "I can't take you anywhere else."

Lestrange nodded grimly. They heard noises from outside.

"Reynard! Reynard, open the damn door!"

They Disapparated.


	16. aberforth

**16**

Repelling (_Aberforth_)

* * *

If Aberforth Dumbledore had thought this was going to be a nice, quiet day, he had been wrong. First, there had been his brother with that arrogant Bones man, and he had had to _cook_. And now, in came Sturgis Podmore, who Aberforth only ever saw every once in a while at the few Order meetings he attended, since Podmore wasn't exactly the kind of man who came to the Hog's Head, accompagnied by Reynard Lestrange, a regular customer. Neither of them looked really fit.

"Hello, Aberforth," Podmore said, as he and Lestrange quickly walked towards him.

Podmore looked around; there wasn't a single customer there.

"I need your help," Podmore whispered. "Your brother told me you had a secret passageway into Hogwarts here."

Aberforth frowned and gestured at Lestrange. "Yeah, but d'you really think _he_ should know that?"

"I'm in mortal danger," Lestrange said quickly.

"We all are," Aberforth said, shrugging, and turned.

He resumed polishing his glasses. Some looked so repelling that he wondered what some of his customers did with them that obviously didn't seem to involve any drinking.

"Please," Podmore said. "I take all the responsibility for this, but we really need to get to Albus."

Aberforth bit his lip. It was always about Albus saving the world, wasn't it? Who cared about grumpy, stupid Aberforth? But now, Aberforth knew better than to indulge in jealousy. It had cost him a lot, a long time ago. If he had stopped envying Albus and started to actually think of himself, he might have got a better job, a better life. All the good he could do these days was helping Albus and the Order. He wouldn't be bothered with all the meetings and missions, but he still gave a hand every once in a while.

"Alright," Aberforth grumbled. "I'll show you."

Aberforth turned again, in time to see the relief in Podmore's round face.

"Thank you," Podmore said, looking like he had just resumed breathing.

* * *

**You're probably going to hate me, but with Uni and social life, I'm so busy I just can't go on with this story right now. I think I should leave fanfiction for good, but I really don't like leaving you hanging like that, so in June when Uni's over, I'll try and finish this story. Please keep it on author alert. I'm really sorry; thank you for your support.**


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